Song of the South
by Rune A. Masterson
Summary: -Post X-2- Logan returns home to find that a lot has changed while he's been gone - not least, the arrival of a new X-man and a new teacher. One's from Louisiana, the other from Georgia, and rebel spirits clash when a red-headed vixen catches Logan's eye.
1. Black and White

"With a Christian sense of wrong and right,

We were born and raised in black and white.

One learned to pray,

One loved to fight –

We were born and raised in black and white."

**"Black And White"**

**Brooks & Dunn**

_"Do ya' think I'll learn to control my temper?"_

_"You'd better, Rya!" I rolled over and laughed, grinning at my twin sister as she lay beside me in bed._

_"But…I'm afraid, Vixi," Rya chewed her bottom lip._

_"Afraid of what?" I snorted._

_Rya lay silent for several minutes, her green eyes filling with tears._

_"Of myself, Vixi," she finally confessed in a broken voice.  "I'm afraid of myself."_

*          *          *

_"Rya!  Rya!  What did you do?"_

_Tears poured down my face and blood – my own blood – stained my skirt and legs.  But despite my blood, despite my pain, despite my overwhelming sense of violation, I couldn't tear my eyes away from my sister's frail-framed figure.  She gripped a large iron pipe that at was least half her size and she was covered from head to foot in splatters of gore and blood._

_She turned her head, her face contorted in a snarl, her eyes dark and glazed.  I screamed again, my heels scrabbling against the gravel as I pressed my back against the wall, trying desperately to get away from a half of myself that I no longer knew._

_"Rya!" I shouted, watching in horror she turned toward me, the bloody pipe still clutched in her hands.  "Rya!  It's me!  It's Vixi!  Your sister!"_

_My pleas disintegrated into hacking sobs as my seemingly demon-possessed sister advanced on me like a huntress onto her prey.  But then, suddenly, she stopped, and the pipe fell to the ground with a clang of steel on cement._

_"Vixi…Vixi…?" her soft voice broke through my whimpering; chocking back sobs, I peeked through my hands and stared up at her._

_She stood in front of me, her eyes normal once again, her face as familiar as it had always been.  But then she glanced down at her hands, her clothes, her arms – all covered in blood that wasn't her own.  And then she turned.  Horror spasmed across her face as she caught sight of the broken, mangled bodies of men she had killed with her own, 14-year-old hands._

_And then it was her turn to scream._

_"Vixi!  What did I do?"_

*          *          *

_She held me until my hysterical sobs quieted.  I slowly disentangled myself from her arms and stared at Rya, searching for some kind of answer in her wise eyes._

_"I don't know what happened, Rya.  I…he…"_

_"Daddy says he was poisoned," Rya's eyes turned dark and frightened.  "What did you do, Vixi?"_

_"I…I don't know…" I choked back a sob.  "We…I…we were…making out…like normal teenagers…" I blushed under my sister's disapproving emerald gaze._

_Sexuality was a fiercely suppressed urge in the McIntyre household – our parents were devote Christians and Rya and I had been taught from childhood to "save" ourselves until marriage.  Making out, in any form, was greatly frowned upon._

_But ever since my rape, I had been of the mindset that I had nothing left to loose.  I was out to have fun – and when Joe Cooper gave me the opportunity to explore my budding sexuality, I took him up eagerly on the opportunity._

_"What happened, Vixi?  Just tell me…truth be told, I'm just surprised that you actually did that, since you've been really stand-offish with guys since…well…since," she stopped, words failing her._

_But we were sisters and twins, I knew what she was trying to say.  I just ducked my head, staring at the cream colored eyelet bedcover beneath us._

_"I can't live in the past, Rya.  I decided that with Joe, I'd move on.  Sure…I was scared and I couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout what happened…three years 'go…but I wanted to put it behind me.  But…" I stopped, looking back up at my sister, tears trickling out of the corner of my eyes and dripping off of the end of my nose.  "When I touched him, somethin' happened.  He…had his hand on my…on my…er…" I blushed again, tears and all.  "When he touched my chest…he just…froze.  An' then he started to convulse an'…an' then I called the ambulance.  Somethin' went wrong an' I don't know what it was."_

_I stopped, having run out of words to say.  Rya and I sat in silence for several minutes and then she broke into my thoughts._

_"I guess I can assume he touched your…skin?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Well…I'm a mutant, I know.  Why wouldn't you be?  We're twins, after all," she turned to look at me._

_I paused for a minute, turning over her words in my mind.  A mutant?  But…that was impossible!  Or was it?  She was right – we were twins, after all._

_"So if I'm a mutant…"_

_"You're skin might be poisonous to other people," she finished my thought._

_I stared at her, wide-eyed. _

_"But why are you able to touch me?  And Mom touched me, too!"_

_"Maybe you can touch your family," Rya shrugged, emotionless.  "Or maybe you're just poisonous to men.  Puberty usually triggers mutant traits, like mine," she broke eye contact with me.  "Or periods of great heightened stress or emotions.  Maybe your rape triggered your mutation and you just didn't realize it until you were with Joe."_

_I stared at my sister in disbelief.  What kind of freaks were we?  I had known for years that there was something "special" about my sister and I.  She had always had a temper and I had always been able to talk people into doing what I wanted.  But until now, it hadn't dawned on me that there was something different about us._

_A berserker and a siren.  What a pair._

*          *          *

"…And then your parents figured out what had happened," the man sitting across from me folded his hands on his large, polished wooden desk.

"Yes," I sighed deeply, feeling a little disconcerted after opening up the deepest secrets of my mind to a man who was still next door to a stranger.  "And that's when Rya an' I left home, Professor.  Our father wasn't about to have two mutants under his roof."

"Sad," Professor Charles Xavier shook his head sadly.  "That parents would so cruelly drive their own children away from home.  But, tell me," Charles changed the subject.  "What brought you here, to 'Mutant High?'"

"To tell you the truth, Professor," I smiled a shaky smile.  "I read about this place on the internet while looking for a quiet, out-of-the-way place to teach.  I thought it looked like a good school and decided to come check it out.  Imagine my surprise when my first encounter here is a girl who can walk through walls."

Charles chuckled softly.

"That would be our charming Miss Kitty Pride," his eyes twinkled.  "Just one of the many 'gifted' children at this school.  I think, Miss McIntyre," he moved from behind the desk with a soft whirring of his wheelchair.  "That you're going to fit in here just fine.

"But one last thing, Miss McIntyre," he eyed me closely.

"Please, call me Vixi,"  I interjected quickly.

"Vixi, then," Charles smiled.  "Why do you call yourself a 'siren'?"

"Because," I sighed deeply, staring down at my gloved hands.  "I can reel in a man with the persuasive power of my voice an' then kill him with just the touch o' a finger."

*          *          *

"We've been in need of a science teacher for about half a year now," Charles whirred down the hall beside, stopping just in front of large pair of double oak doors.

"I thought you were offering positions for a science teacher and an arts teacher," I frowned slightly as I opened the doors and stood aside so my guide could go in ahead of me.

"Yes," Charles nodded slowly.  "Our most pressing need is for a science teacher – we've been trying to get through an entire school year without one, but it simply can't be done.  The position must be filled.  As for an arts teacher…that's a position I thought would be useful to add another depth and dimension to the childrens' education."

"So…that's not necessarily a position you need filled?" I couldn't help keep the disappointment from my voice.

"I take it that's the position you'd like to fill," Charles rolled into the dark, curtained room, but I could still see the smile creep into his eyes.

"Yes," I answered truthfully.  "Science is my sister's forte – I'm more of a music, art, and theatrical person."

"I see," Charles sighed softly, glancing toward one of the curtains.

As if given a cue, I strayed from his side and tugged on a corner of one of the large, velvet curtains.  A bright stream of light poured into the room, stinging my eyes.  Despite my movement and the new-found light, I could sense that Charles' attention had moved to someone else.

"Scott?  Whatever are you doing in here?"

I threw open one more curtain and then turned away from the window and the gorgeous view it showed of the mansion's backyard and the woods beyond.  It took a few seconds for the spots to keep dancing in front of my adjusting eyes, but it didn't take me long to spy the tall, lean form of a man leaning petulantly against a row of counters along the far wall.

Pain…sorrow…loss…  I feel those emotions stewing inside of the shadowed form that scowled at us from across the room.

At least, I think he scowled.  It was hard to tell, with his opaque, reddish-black sunglasses blocking any view into his eyes.

"Who are you?" he completely ignored Charles' question and snapped on at me instead.

"Uh…um…I'm Vixiana McIntyre," I stammered, taken back by the hostility in his voice.

"Already trying to fill Jean's place, I see," Scott pushed himself off of the counter and stalked stiffly toward the center of the room, where I stood uncertainly beside Charles' wheelchair.

"Scott," Charles shook his head in quiet warning.  "Jean's loss does – cannot – change the fact that this school needs a science teacher."

"LeBeau does a good job," Scott replied defensively, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his legs in a defiant stance.

"Remy is…adequate," Charles sighed, fighting to suppress a slight smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.  "But he lacks the skill and depth of knowledge Jean was able to offer to the students.  Not to mention – I don't think we can afford another set of Bunsen burners after last week's…explosion.  Let's all be glad that Bobby was in the class to cool things down, as it were."

"'Remy'?" I repeated the name in surprise.  "Remy LeBeau works here?"

"Yes," Charles glanced up at me.  "The name means something to you?"

"He's an old…friend…of Rya," I smiled ruefully.  "I've never met him personally, but Rya told me about him.  He's not the kind of person I'd expect to be subbing in a mutant high school."

"If I had my way, he'd be more than a sub," Scott snarled, unfolding his arms and stomping toward the door.  "You're _not_ needed."

My jaw dropped, completely scandalized by the man's unnecessary rudeness.  I turned toward Charles, my eyes wide and searching for answers.

"I'm guessing the late science teacher was a woman," I ventured.

"Yes," he replied solemnly.

"_His_ woman?" I jerked my head in the direction of the door.      

"Yes," Charles sighed deeply and turned around.  "And a red-head, my dear.  Very much like you, in fact."

*          *          *

"Regardless of what Scott said," Charles continued as we made our way down the hall.  "You _are_ needed.  Every time something blows up in that science lab, the rest of the faculty is reminded of how much Dr. Jean Gray's place needs to be filled by a professional.  And how much we all still miss her."

"I'll take the job, Professor, but I'm not a professional," I shook my head regretfully.

"You say your sister is, though?" he looked at me hopefully.

I glanced to the side and bit the inside of my cheek before answering.

"Rya…is not someone you want working for you, Professor.  She hangs out with…shall we say…the wrong crowd."

Perhaps he read my mind, or perhaps my words were easily understood to someone who listened carefully, but Charles knew what I meant.

"Does she work for a mutant named Magneto?"

"Yes," I tugged idly at one of my gloved fingertips.

"How unfortunate," Charles didn't know my sister, but he seemed genuinely sorry to hear that she worked on the wrong side of the fence.

"Her powers embittered her," I felt obligated to give an explanation.  "She learned to control them, but as a result, she seems to have lost all capability to feel any emotion whatsoever.  She felt that she couldn't contribute positively to society, so she was…" I struggled to keep back sudden tears.  "She was talked into joining Magneto's group and fighting against what she felt she couldn't change."

"And you?" Charles pressed gently.  "I'll tell you now, Vixi, my faculty and I work as an organized team against the likes of Magneto and other mislead mutants like your sister."

"It would be easy to be bitter," I admitted with a little shrug as we walked past a room that sounded like it opened into a gym of some sort.  "But I'm too passionate a person – I can't severe my emotions from my mind, the way Rya did.  I don't hate humans.  I don't hate our parents for driving us out.

"I guess," I concluded.  "I've just learned over the years that fighting doesn't do much good.  So I pray instead."

*          *          *

_"I don't like them, Rya," I grabbed my sister by the arm and forced her to look at me.  "They don't seem right."_

_"It's not like you've ever approved of the company I've kept over the years, Vixi," Rya snorted.  "You never even met Remy LeBeau and you still hated him."_

_"I didn't hate him – I don't hate anyone," I argued.  "But…can you blame me for disliking a man whose interest in you ended once he got you in his bed?"_

_"You've got it wrong, Vixi.  I lost interest in him," Rya's green eyes pierced me coldly.  "Contrary to your beliefs, all men aren't players for the sake of being players – Remy was more than willing to go further with his affections.  But you see, Vixi, I was the player.  I got what I wanted out of Remy and moved on.  Love is for the weak."_

_"Why are you so cold, Rya?" I demanded gently.  "You weren't always like this."_

_"And I didn't always have control on my anger, either," Rya cocked a perfectly shaped eyebrow.  "Which would you rather me be, Vixi?  An emotional, warm-blooded, affectionate and deadly mutant with no control over her powers, or a cold, calculating, emotionless mutant who can control her powers from hurting herself and others?"_

_"I think you can have both, Rya," I whispered softly._

_"No, I can't, Vixi.  I want to touch people and be in relationships without killing my lovers – unlike you."_

_Her words cut like a knife through my fragile heart.  Over the years, I had learned to control my ability to influence people through my pheromones and voice, but I had never gained control of my other strange power, especially since I didn't know what caused my skin to be so deadly._

_"But why work for Magneto?  Why do you have to fight and hurt humans?"_

_"What did they ever do to make our lives normal?" Rya snorted bitterly.  "I've always been the black sheep of the family, Vixi.  I accept my powers for what they are and use them to my advantage.  I have no time to be a goody-two-shoes."_


	2. Brown Eyed Handsome Man

_"Way back in history three thousand years –_

_Back ever since the world began – _

_Been a whole lot of good women_

_Shed a tear for a brown eyed handsome man._

_That's what the trouble was –_

_A brown eyed handsome man."_

**"Brown Eyed Handsome Man"**

**Waylon Jennings**

I stopped the motorcycle completely and let it throttle for several minutes while I watched the sun set slowly behind the giant house hunkering down at the end of the gravel road.

_God – it's good to be home,_ I thought silently to myself as I pulled a cigar out of my pocket.  _S'funny__, though…after all these years of wanderin', I've finally found a place to call "home."_

A hell of a home, though, I chuckled, revving the cycle's engine again and driving leisurely toward the garage at the back of the ivy-covered, stone house.  Those who had come to know the vagabond Wolverine in the last 15 years, would have never accused me of finding a home, much less at a school for mutant teenagers.

But then, again, life has a way of throwing the best of us curve balls.  I guess mine was Xavier's School For the Gifted.

I had been wandering aimlessly across the Canadian Rockies for the past six months before an epiphany hit me somewhere in the middle of Saskatchewan.  Why was I still bouncing about from place to place, looking for somewhere to call my own?  Was my past really so important that I was willing to give up friends?  Was my pain over Jean's loss so overpowering that I couldn't bear to stay in a place that was always open to me?

I decided then that I would go back to "Mutant High" and settle in once and for all – for a while, anyway.  I was always going to be beset by random bouts of wanderlust, but there was a difference between wandering for no reason and wandering with the knowledge that there was a place "back home" to call my own.

_Hello, __Logan__.  So good of you to finally come back,_ Charles' voice reverberated in my mind; I grinned.

God – it was good to be home.

*          *          *

I parked Cyclops' bike, but sat on it for few minutes more.  Unlike the first time I had come home after "borrowing" his motorcycle, I had stopped at a nearby gas station and filled her up.  For the first time since I had met him, I didn't want to antagonize Scott.  We both shared a great sense of loss – we had both lost the one woman dearest to us.  True, my feelings for Jean had been mostly driven by an animalistic sense of lust, but somewhere beneath all of that had been a great admiration and something akin to love.

I sighed and swung my leg over the bike, gathering my ratty backpack and standing up on my own two feet.

_I'm sure Scott's still gonna' bitch 'bout me takin' the damn thing,_ I glanced at the motorcycle one last time and turned toward the door that lead into the mansion.

"I don't think Scott ever noticed you took it, Logan," Charles' voice echoed around the cement block garage.

I jumped in surprise; I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts, that I hadn't heard the Professor's wheelchair, or the door open.

"He hasn't been himself since Jean left us," Charles' face looked worn, tired, and much older than when I had last seen him.

Jean's death had left a dent in the X-men that could still be clearly felt.  My heart ached.

"He's been spending more time in the stables, than he has here, among his cars."

I glanced around, cocking a curious eyebrow.  True enough – now that I looked closer, I could see that the fast, beautiful cars Cyclops had loved so dearly were all in serious need of a wash and wax.  The motorcycle I had just returned was the only vehicle that looked like it had been used in a long time.

_He must be grieving harder than I thought he would._

"You have no idea, Logan," Charles read my thoughts, his face saddened.  "But Time waits for no man.  Things have changed since you left us."

"If this garage is any indication, I'd say it's all changed for the worse," I chewed on the end of my unlighted cigar.

"Depends on how you look at it, I suppose," Charles turned his wheelchair around and headed for the door.  "Jean's absence notwithstanding, we've had to fill in the gaps she left behind.  Much to Scott's displeasure, might I add."

"The old goat never really liked new faces, from what I've gathered," I smiled wryly, remembering Scott's reaction to my arrival in the X-men.

Of course, his dislike of me had a lot to do with the way I ignored his outstretched hand the first time we met and my complete lack of social graces, but who was splittin' hairs?  Scott wasn't one to have his role as alpha male challenged – I had sensed that much the first time we met.  And how I had loved challenging his status as "the leader."  But now…I'd just be happy to do as he said without fuss.

"So what's changed?" I picked the conversation back up as we moved into the warm mahogany halls of the school.

"Can't you smell it?" Charles glanced up at me, with something like a smile tugging at his mouth.

I stopped walking and stuck my nose up in the air.  Flaring my nostrils wide, I breathed in the familiar scents of Xavier's School For the Gifted.  And yep – sure enough, there were two subtle changes to the stew of smells I had come to associate with "home."

"Someone's cookin' somethin'," I quipped flippantly as I tried to decide what the two unidentified smells reminded me of.

"Ah," was all Charles would say.

"Smells…" I inhaled deeply.  "Like there's another guy here," I wrinkled my nose in dislike.  "I'm sure Scott's thrilled – smells like gumbo.  And arousal," I glanced at Charles disapprovingly.  "Sure you want a guy like that around here?"

"He's a good man," Charles shrugged.  "No worse than you, Wolverine.  His name's Remy LeBeau; a Cajun from New Orleans.  An excellent weapons master, but a bit clumsy around the Bunsen burners."

"Huh?" I frowned, my eyebrows knitting together in puzzlement.

What did Bunsen burners have to do with anything?  Come to think of it, what _was_ a Bunsen burner?

For lack of anything better to do, I stuck my nose in the air again and sniffed.  There was a scent, far more subtle than the Cajun's, or the cooking food.  The unidentified scent excited me, for some reason I couldn't explain.

But then the voice of siren distracted me and I momentarily forgot about identifying the second new scent.

"Beautiful daughter couldn't make up her mind

Between a doctor and a lawyer man.

Mamma told her daughter to –

'Go out and find yourself a brown eyed handsome man.

Just like your daddy's a brown eyed, handsome man.'"

I grinned widely – a woman who sang Waylon Jennings.  This could be interesting.

And that's when I figured out what the unidentified scent was.  I turned to Charles, triumphant.

"A woman," my lips curled back to bare my teeth in a wide smile.  "There's a new woman here."

I sniffed once more, just for good measure and my smile slipped.

"She smells like an animal, though."

"Really?" Charles couldn't suppress a spurt of laughter.  "I think Remy would disagree with you.  I think his exact word for her is 'Rose.'"

"I don't mean she smells," I scowled.  "She just…well…she doesn't smell the way a human woman would.  Her pheromones are stronger than, say, Storm's are.  Almost like…" I sniffed.  "A female fox."

"Interesting you should liken her scent to vixen," Charles started his wheelchair again; I had to trot to catch up with him again.  "She rather resembles a fox, with all that red hair of hers.  And her name's Vixiana – Vixiana MacIntyre."

"An X-man?"

"No.  She's just a teacher…for now.  I'm having a time trying to convince her to fight; she has an extraordinary spirit, but she's a lot like Kurt."

"A lover, not a fighter?" I curled my lip up in scorn.

"There's nothing wrong with that, Logan," Charles scolded me gently.  "Would there were more like Vixi and Kurt."

"What are her powers, anyway?  And what does she teach?" I demanded, my nose twitching over the delicious smells that were wafting their way down the hall from the kitchen.

"She teaches music and drama – we're still looking for a science teacher that won't burn down the chemistry lab.  Her nickname is 'Siren.'  The reason her pheromones are stronger than a normal woman, is because of her powers.  She's able to manipulate people through the power of her words and her sometimes overpowering sexuality."

"Sounds like my kind of woman," I grinned, thinking, of course, of Charles' reference to the woman's sexual instincts.

"She's in strong control of her powers, though.  All but one."

"Her sexuality?" I asked hopefully – blame the animal in me, but I loved a woman who wasn't ashamed of her healthy sex drive.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Logan," Charles scolded, but there was twinkle his eyes.  "You'll be greatly disappointed, I'm sure, to learn that she has a second power, very similar to Rogue's."

My grin faltered.

"Like Rogue's power?" I repeated stupidly.

"Vixi's skin is poisonous to the touch."

"Fuck," I grumbled.

That took the fun out of everything.

"Doesn't seem to stop Remy, though," Charles chuckled.  "That young man's every waking minute is spent scheming on ways to get his hands on Vixi without killing himself."

I didn't like this Remy.

*          *          *

"Way back in history three thousand years –

Back ever since the world began – 

Been a whole lot of good women

Shed a tear for a brown eyed handsome man.

That's what the trouble was –

A brown eyed handsome man."

My ears were filled with Waylon Jennings and my nose twitched with the heady mixture of woman and food.  Unable to restrain my curiosity any longer, I poked my head in the kitchen and took stock of the situation.

I suddenly understood why Remy LeBeau had a hard time trying to keep his hands off of Vixiana MacIntyre.

An unfamiliar woman stood with her back turned to me, her thick mane of bright red hair tumbling down to her succulently curvaceous hips.  I licked my lips; from where I was standing, she seemed to have curves in all the right places, with a delicious, hour-glass figure.

My kind of woman.

"Come on, Marie!  Sing with me," Vixiana turned her head in the opposite direction and waved at another figure I immediately recognized as Rogue's.

"Way back in history three thousand years –

Back ever since the world began –" Marie sang, a laugh in her voice.

"That's more like it!" Vixiana clapped her hands and sashayed her way the fridge.

I was having a hard time looking at anything other than the hypnotic hips moving back and forth.

"Been a whole lot of good women

Shed a tear –" the woman turned toward me with a toss of her glorious red head.  "For a brown eyed handsome…"

Her voice trailed off and I suddenly realized that she had caught sight of me.  For several frozen seconds we eyed each other like wary animals from opposite sides of the kitchen.

"Logan!" Rogue's girlish voice squealed my name and I tore my eyes away from Vixiana MacIntyre to see Marie bouncing across the kitchen to throw her arms around my neck.

"Hey, kid," I couldn't hide a grin; how I loved my little Marie.  "Haven't seen ya' in a while."

"It's good to have you back home," Marie wrapped her arms around my waist and snuggled her head in my chest.

"So I hear," I ruffled the top of her head.  I then grinned and looked up at Vixiana.  "Now what's this you was sayin' 'bout a 'brown eyed handsome man?'"

"We were singin' 'bout you, Logan," Rogue laughed as she stepped away from me.  "Oh," she turned around and waved toward Vixiana, who was still staring at me as if I were a ghost.  "This is my friend, Vixiana MacIntyre.  She's new here."

"The music and drama teacher Charles was telling me about," I grinned wolfishly.  "Glad to make your acquaintance," I stepped away from Marie and extended my hand.  "Name's Logan – or 'Wolverine.'"

"Quite a name," she finally seemed to find her voice and she took my hand in hers.

I was impressed.  Her handshake was firm and assertive.  I glanced down, though, having felt the cool satin of her gloves against my palm.  That seemed to break the spell – Vixiana withdrew her hand hastily and turned away quickly.

"Call me Vixi," she said over her shoulder as she hustled to the stove.

Marie and I exchanged a glance – the young girl knew immediately what had happened and her green eyes were solemn, if not a little sad.  She shrugged helplessly and picked up a nearby serving bowl, handing it to Vixi.

"Whatcha' all makin'?" I decided it best to change the subject and sidled up to the new teacher, trying to get a good look at whatever delicious-smelling creation she was concocting.

"Corned beef and cabbage," Vixi replied crisply and promptly smacked my hand when I reached for a sliver of beef.

"Sounds good," I shook my hand and scowled briefly at her.  "Don't know 'bout the cabbage, though.  Never was one for vegetables – 'cept potatoes."

"A real meat-and-potatoes man, huh?" Vixi cocked a perfectly shaped eyebrow.  "How quaint."

"More meat than anythin' else," I snatched that tempting sliver of beef before she could slap my hand again.

I popped into my mouth with a grin that quickly turned into a grimace when it burned my tongue.

"Doesn't do to take hot food off the stove and stick in your mouth, genius," Rogue laughed at my calamity.

"Hope it burns every taste bud on your tongue off," Vixi added acidly, shaking the tea towel in my direction.  "Out!"

"Out?" I pouted, turning to Rogue for help, who just laughed harder.

"Out!  The kitchen's woman territory – men only get in the way!" Vixi proclaimed, shaking the towel at me as if she were a matador and me a red-raging bull.

"You'd better leave, Logan," Marie smiled at me, her eyes shining.  "Vixi can be really territorial around the kitchen.  Just ask Remy – he nearly lost a finger in here the other day when he thought he'd 'help' Vixi wi' a salad."

"I'll be sure to ask his opinion when I meet him," I grumbled ill-naturedly as I turned tail and retreated in dishonor.

A/N:

Thanks for reading/reviewing, Sora-sama!  *hugs*  That meant a lot a to me.  ^_^  And yep – I'm back in the business of fanfiction.  *throws confetti in the air*  I guess there's hope for this site after all.  *laughs*

Forgive the Waylon Jennings theme, but I couldn't resist.  Matter of fact, this whole story was inspired by "Brown Eyed Handsome Man" and other songs by Waylon Jennings.  *sighs*  I love the man's music – and I think if Wolverine was inclined to listen to Country music, he'd be a fan of Waylon Jennings.  :D  Goes well nicely with the whole roguish persona of our beloved Wolvie, don't you agree?

            ~Athena


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